The Fire of Honour and Duty
by ThriceW
Summary: When Hector is caught fraternizing with his younger brother, Priam sends him to the court of Lycomedes where he finds a bewitching young woman named Pyrrha. Trust me, this isn't a Mary Sue. HectorXParis, AchillesXHector


Title: The Fire of Honour and Duty Disclaimer: Don't own it. Don't sue.  
A/N: Some important things you should know...first off, you might find that I have mentioned a woman named Oenone as Paris' wife. This is true in some instances, Paris was indeed married to Oenone for a while before he met Helen. She was a master of herbs and medicine. Supposedly, she is a nymph and daughter of a River god. My resources say that they had a child, Corythus. I am not sure what the Trojan's felt about incest. I think that it must have been something that everyone turned their cheek to but it wasn't conducive to the story so I exercised some poetic license. Ianasseus is my own creation, if he existed, this is a pure coincidence  
Another note: Hector was the eldest but in no particular chronological order the siblings are named as such: Hector, Paris, Cassandra, Laodice, Cruesa, Medicaste, Polyxena, Deiphobus and Helenus.

_"Though my heart burn in just anger, yet my soul must conquer th' angry part., and yield you conquest: who subdues his earthy part for heaven, Heaven to his prayers subdues his wish."_ -The Iliad by Homer

Paris had been curled in a ball, sobbing softly. The grief and the humiliation of the day had washed over him and after arguing with Oenone, he just wanted to be alone. Suddenly, he found the solitude that he craved, wasn't what he wanted after all. He wanted to call her back but didn't want to see the scorn in her beautiful eyes, didn't want to see the tight, angry lines etched into her face.

His hand fell to the brutal gash on his leg that had been stitched carefully together. It hurt but it wasn't enough to match the pain in his heart. He had embarrassed his family and the entire realm by his foolishness.. He had lost face in a time when he needed it the most. What had he done, challenging Deiphobus to battle over such a foolish thing as a horse?

A warm hand touched his shoulder, jerking him out of his gloomy thoughts. His brother's smoldering eyes held his and Paris lay his head down on his brother's leg and cried softly. Those sword-calloused hands stroked back his dark curls, waiting patiently as he shed his tears.

"What have I done, brother?" Paris asked softly, his body slack with exhaustion.

It was a while before Hector answered, "These things happen, Paris. No matter how terrible they are, you must learn to get back on your feet and fight on."

"That's the problem, Hector, I couldn't fight then and I can't fight now."

Paris had always been the more delicate and aristocratic of all the brothers. So gentle, when he was a boy that his father had thought that training him for war would surely ruin him. He had been pampered and although Hector was somewhat responsible for the way his brother was treated, he knew it had been his downfall as he entered manhood. Paris was unruly and impulsive, his heart would wander and where that went to, his mind would soon follow. It had been hard to keep Paris in line as a child, it was harder now that he was a man and he knew that he was desirable.

"Enough of that brother." He said in a gently chiding voice, "You did good despite it all and you must remember that the king had plenty of experience on the battlefield."

Pulling himself away, he curled back into fetal position, with his back to his brother. Hector sighed softly, pulling off his sandals to curl up against his brother. He wrapped strong arms around his brother's shuddering shoulders and kissed one naked shoulder blade before settling down for the night.

"I have brought shame to myself, Hector. Why should you be so compassionate when I have made a mockery of all that you had instilled in me?"

His patience had already been thin after learning about the delegation heading to Mycenae to appease the blood-lusted king. Oenone had sought him out after the council had been dismissed, tears in her eyes and begged him to console Paris. He had known that his brother would be inconsolable, his humiliation had been great but he was surprised that not even Oenone's love for him was able to bring him out of the deep, dark pit of depression that he had fallen into. "By the gods, Paris," Hector hissed, exasperation painted his hands, brooding features, "This was the will of the gods, and there was nothing you could do to stop it."

"Yes there was, I could have let my brother have the bloody horse instead of challenging him to a fight over it. With the exception of you, he is one of the best fighters in our family...I know that I am the weakest. It was foolish..."

It was the same old argument, and Hector grit his teeth to keep from yelling. In one sinuous movement, he pinned Paris's back against the bed, two large hands holding his face so that he could look into his eyes and his own body covering his legs, "Listen, brother, I will tell you again and then, that will be it. I do not like to repeat myself, as you know." His voice was low and rapid, "Deiphobus has been looking for an excuse to put you in your rightful place, as he so eloquently put it. You were bound to mess up and he was bound to pounce on you for it. It was inevitable."

"Hector, I have been an affront and nuisance to our family-"

"No!" Hector hissed, shaking Paris' head slightly, "Get that notion out of your head, Paris. Don't you ever say that to me again."

New tears started to flow quietly down Paris' face as his opened his mouth to speak. "But it's true and--"

Fingers tightened on his temples, Paris winced beneath his brother's rough grip but didn't struggle to get out of it, "I told you." Hector's voice was dangerously soft, "To stop it. Now, none of this." He moved his leg to get out of the bed, his knee brushing against the rough line on Paris' leg and as he did, Paris groaned softly in pain. Looking down, Hector stared at the brutal cut, a few of the stitches had torn open and were now bleeding, the blood smeared over both their thighs.

He looked at his young brother's pale face before pulling away, kissing his brow tenderly, "I'm sorry, I will clean it and bandage it properly, Lex." The use of his childhood nickname brought a soft smile to Paris' face, despite the pain that tore through his leg and echoed throughout his entire body.

Paris' thighs were virtually devoid of hair, and Hector ran a steady hand over the quivering muscle, his thumbs brushing against the torn edges of the gash. Paris sucked in a noisy breath before dropping back onto the pillow, his face ghostly white with pain.

"I am going to get something to take the pain away, brother." Hector stood and went to one of the chests against the wall to dig out a phial of some clear liquid that tasted sickly-sweet. Paris grimaced as he took the concoction and settled back down on the bed to wait for the painkiller to kick in. It was a short while later when the pain began to ebb, that Paris sighed gratefully and closed his eyes, vaguely aware of his brother's efficient moves to close the wound.

Hector's rough chin rasped against the tender flesh of his leg as he kissed the wound gently. Paris opened his velvet eyes and stared down at his brother with an unreadable expression on his face, inwardly surprised that his brother had a tender look on his face, "I'm sorry for hurting you little brother." He stood and walked to the basin, washing away the blood that smeared his legs and hands. "It hurts me to see that you are so pained and fraught with turmoil."

The cool feel of a cloth running over his heated flesh drew a groan from his mouth. It was a welcomed touch, as it washed away the dried blood. "Do not worry about me brother. All I need to know is that you are smiling, that at least, you could be proud of me--for what I know not, but regardless what I do you can speak with me and call me brother easily."

A sad look came across the elder's face, "Thank you brother." He sank on the bed, the sad look was one of defeat and he ran his damp hand through his hair, his fingertips touching the back of the golden circlet that lay on his brow.

Despite his sore leg, Paris sat up and crawled to the edge of the bed, laying his naked chest against Hector's back, wrapping his long arms around his shoulders. He rested his chin on his big brother's shoulder and listened to his slow breathing, matching his own with it. "I am terrified that one day, you will look upon me with the scorn and contempt that Deiphobus holds for me. But you and I have always shared a close bond and I love you so much." His voice was thick with emotion and he felt the hot push of tears threatening to make their way to the surface of his chocolate coloured eyes.

He had been angry with his brother for appearing at the gates of Troy with the beautiful Oenone as his wife, that much was apparent but what had shamed him to the core was that his disappointment and anger was not in Troy's well being, but his own. He felt betrayed by his brother, a feeling that was often fatal amongst men of his nature. He had always had Paris to himself, ignoring the flitting presence of some paltry lover or another.

Hera, strike me down gently, Hector prayed mentally to the Goddess of Marriage, as he leaned into his brother's embrace. They had always been incredibly close, brushing the boundaries of brotherly love and incest--something that was condemned amongst Trojans as unnatural and sacrilegious. They had never broken the boundaries out of fear of being caught, but many had suspected what had been between the two dark haired, dark eyed brothers.

"What are you thinking about, Hawk?" Paris used his brother's old nickname, his fingers rasping against Hector's unshaven jaw to turn his head so he could at least see his profile.

"I am thinking about you, Lex." Tilted his head into the palm of his brother's hand, feeling the warmth that radiated from his graceful hand.

For someone as beautiful as Paris, it was generally accepted--to the very least, ignored--when he had taken a male lover. Hector remembered one particular young man, a softly spoken, delicate thing that exuded a deep calm that seemed to affect all that was in his presence. He remembered his eerie green eyes, sharp with an intelligence that made Hector feel edgy and also very threatened. His name had been Ianasseus, a young Greek Prince.

The man was astute enough to see the love that burned brightly between the two brothers and their unnatural bond. He was not offended or disgusted as the Trojans would have been but had confronted Hector about it quietly. The eldest prince had vehemently denied the attraction, insisting it was just a strong bond of brotherhood. After a while, the green-eyed Ianasseus departed for his own home and left a moping young prince that was soon coaxed out of his mood by his brother's cajoling.

"I hope it is all good?" Paris said lightly, his dark eyes following the clean line of his brother's long and graceful neck.

Nodding into his hand, Hector turned and placed a tender kiss on his delicate palm, "Aye. I was also thinking of one of your friends, Ianasseus. Remember him?"

"How could I not? He was quite the splendid creature." From the feel of Paris' body, stiffening against his back, the elder brother knew that he had struck a chord with his beautiful sibling. "He said...something strange to me before he left."

Remembering his own odd discussion with the Greek prince, Hector's tone was guarded as he prompted Paris onward, "Well, he said to me that there was no shame in loving you."

Hector stilled, his heart thudded in his chest, "Odd indeed." he said softly, pulling Paris' arms gently away from his shoulders to stand. "Are you feeling well enough for me to leave you, brother?"

"Well, I think so, yes. But wouldn't you stay with me a little longer?" Paris' voice was soft and timid, his dark brown eyes pleading silently.

The man walked to the other side of the room, suddenly craving distance between his sensitized body and that of his brother. "Alright Lex, but you must sleep. You haven't slept well in the past few nights, Oenone has told me and that worries me greatly."

In a dismissive gesture, Paris settled back down on the pillows. "What do you think Ianasseus meant when he had said that, brother? He knew that I love you dearly and to say something like that...do I act like I am ashamed with our bond, brother? Have I ever given that impression?"

Hector wished that his brother would drop the conversation but knew that he was in a mood where he would only persist if anyone attempted to deter him. "No, I don't think so brother." But he was ashamed of what was unspoken between the two of them. It was his deepest and darkest secret, his love for the young man who curled in bed, innocently staring at him like an oblivious rabbit under the intent murderous gaze of a hawk.

There had been many nights where he had woken, Paris' name on his lips and the haunting images of his youth body beckoning him, his supple flesh against his own. His wife had taken it all in and had innocently mistaken it as a nightmare. It had been far from that, there had been nothing to fear in his dreams but it was when he woke that scared him the most. He knew that his lust for his brother was wrong, was sinful and he knew that he would have to repent for his sins because the gods would most certainly see to it.

"Are you ashamed of your love for me brother?" Paris' voice was soft, deceptively gentle as the brutal tempest of doubt warred behind his beautiful dark eyes.

Was he? He couldn't bring himself to answer, the words on his lips were frozen there and he only stared helplessly at his brother as the love that shone in Paris' eyes turned instantly cold and brittle. The hesitation was enough to make the young Prince realize that Hector did feel some shame. "You do, brother?" His voice was gentle still, but cold and distant, the warmth in his eyes dwindled into hurt and shock.

"Gods, Paris!" Hector leapt from his chair and sat quietly on the bed, grabbing Paris' arms and pulling him roughly against his broad chest. "Tis not what you think."

Paris pushed out of his brother's grasp, "It is quite alright. I am the lesser brother. I am less of man, less of a prince, and even less of a warrior than you will ever be. I understand, brother. I understand that there is a lot in me to be ashamed of." He pulled himself from the bed and limped to the open doors of the balcony, his sightless eyes stared out over the city, the moon bathing his lithe form in her silvery light.

He persisted and wrapped one strong arm around his brother's waist, the other across his chest to keep him against his body, "No brother, it is not you that I am ashamed of." His words were rough with emotion and a useless anger swelled up in him, making him feel equally frustrated with himself as he had so many times after those haunting dreams, "It is me." Wrenching his body away from Paris in a frustrated yell, he cried, "Hades, take my soul for my shame. I cannot bear it." He dropped to his knees and grabbed his brother's hand, bowing over it.

Paris dropped to his knees, a confused look on his beautiful face, "What is it brother?" He asked softly, unable to pull his hand away from his brother's brow.

Of a sudden, lips crashed over Paris' unsuspecting mouth. The crushing kiss eased and grew soft but possessive and Paris gasped with the pleasure of it before pulling away. This was not at all brotherly, he knew and instantly, he knew of Hector's shame. His darkest secret. "Oh gods, Hector." His voice was strangled as he watched Hector wordlessly stand and walk to the bedroom door. "Why would you do this to me?" He murmured numbly, tears falling unimpeded down his beautiful face.

"That is my secret, Paris. My shame." Hector's voice was rough and his dark eyes were a reflection of all the pain he felt, all the sorrow that his soul embraced. "And for that, I will be punished." With that, the door opened and closed, Hector was gone.

Doubling over, the emotional pain so intense that it wracked his entire body, Paris tore at his hair. "Why? Why would you do this to me brother?" He screamed angrily, unable to move. He had never realized that his brother's protectiveness, his care and his concern where not entirely brotherly. It saddened him, it breeched the boundaries that he had mentally erected in his mind. It was as if his brain shut down then, as if to say that it would break if it dealt with anymore. Paris slipped into a deep sleep, there in a ball on the floor.

The servants found him a day later, his body wracked with a wicked fever, delirium wrapping his mind in a foggy haze. Oenone sat vigilantly by his side but knew that there was something wrong, that something had caused his mind to slip and his body to give into the infection caused by the gaping wound at his thigh. She knew vaguely that this had something to do with Hector's visit, as the man had not been spotted since he was seen leaving Paris' rooms.

It was the third day of his sickness, no sign of it getting any better when Oenone broke down and wept quietly at her husband's side. He was leaving her and she was helpless to stop it. "Why do you leave me, Paris?" She said bitterly, wiping the tears away angrily.

All the anger and blame that she felt pinpointed itself to Hector. They had found him later on, locked in a room in the highest tower, fasting. She picked up her skirts and stalked to the room, the tears still wet on her face. She pounded on the door, her frustration not enough for the door to be a deterrent. "Hector, open the door." She cried but there was no answer.

She stood there, more tears trailing down her face as silence met her demands. "Paris is dying, brother-in-law. He is in his bed now, sick with a fever and he has no will to pull himself out of it. I know in my heart of hearts that you are the only one capable of helping him...you are the only one who can drive the sickness from his embrace. Please. Just help him and I will do anything you ask." She begged, her hands dangling uselessly at her side.

The door opened slightly and Hector's haggard face appeared, his body covered by a long sheet that he had wrapped around his body. "He is dieing?" His voice was raspy from dehydration.

"Aye, Hector. And I am so scared he will leave me." She sobbed angrily, the delicate lines of kohl that accented her beautiful grey-blue eyes smudged over her cheeks. "Don't let him leave me."

Hector opened the door fully and wrapped his arms around Oenone, stroking her back softly as she cried the last of her tears. "Come, I will see what I can do."

Paris lay in bed, as sallow and as white as the linen that surrounded him. His brow was damp with the sweat of his fever and his face was contorted with the pain that wracked his body. Glancing questioningly at his sister-in-law who stood helplessly by the prince's bedside, she said softly, "I have done everything I can. The wound is wrapped in poultices and I have coaxed all the medicines I can into him...but it is like he doesn't want to get well. His body isn't fighting it."

"Go, all of you, I will tend to the prince." He gave the woman one last reassuring hug and added, "You have done all you can now, it is in the hands of the gods and my brother."

The servants, physicians and Oenone left quietly, Hector closed the door behind them before throwing the sheet off of his naked body. There was a pitcher of tepid water sitting on a stand, he poured some into a bowl and washed away the sweat and blood that was smeared over his golden-brown skin. He winced as the cloth touched the welts on his back. Scooping up the discarded sheet, he tied and knotted it around his waist and sank into the bed with his brother. He set a hand on the younger man's burning brow, gently pushing away the damp locks of sable hair.

"I'm sorry, Paris. I didn't mean for it to go so far." he leaned down and kissed Paris' forehead and then his closed eyelids before kissing his dried and cracked lips.

"Brother? Hector? Is that you?" Paris asked softly, his eyes slitted to show feverishly bright brown eyes.

"Aye brother, tis me."

He smiled softly, the effort caused his lips to crack open and bleed slightly. Hector took a damp cloth from another basin at his side and wetted it before setting it to his brother's lips, "Why are you doing this, Paris?"

"I don't...want you...to...suffer because of me...brother."

Setting his head on Paris' pillow, he smiled sadly, "Paris, I would suffer even more if you were not at your rightful place by my side." Kissing one hot cheek, Hector whispered hoarsely, "For I have loved you since the beginning of time and I would love you until our memory faded from this earth."

"I love you too, Hector." Paris said gently, and then with what little energy he had mustered now expended, he fell into a deep sleep.

A sinking feeling lodged itself in his belly as he thought his brother had died. He was relieved to see the steady rise and fall of his brother's chest had not ceased and in fact, was even more pleased to realize that his fever had strangely broken then. Nonetheless, he piled the furs and blankets on top of his brother then crept in himself, curling into a small protective cusp around his young brother's prone form.

The dire warnings of the priests as the lash lay open his back echoed in his brain as his body succumbed to a much needed sleep. The pain of the whip against his flesh had been an all to unpleasant reminder of the sacrilege that he had almost committed. He had taken over a hundred lashes before the priests felt him suitably punished for his crimes. It was for the greater good of his and Paris' soul that he took on such a brutal punishment, and that he chanted like a mantra in his mind until that too, shut down in sleep.

He started awake as a hand smoothed across his chest. Opening his eyes suddenly round with fright, Hector gazed into his brother's eyes and was startled by what he saw. "What-" He was cut off as one long finger laid against his lips.

"Shh, Hector." Paris said gently, pulling himself up and across Hector's supine form, straddling his thighs. "I realize now what it was that Ianasseus had meant by not being ashamed in loving my brother. Tis a secret that you and I will share--only the gods as our witness will we make this thing that has always been between us, real. I love you Hector, Prince of Troy...king of my heart." Said heart was then lodged in Hector's mouth as he stared up at his sibling in shock, "In all the ways that one can possibly love another, I do love you. I am nigh fit to burst with it and I only want to know that you feel the same for me, too."

Gently sitting up, Hector wrapped his arms around his brother's naked torso and eased him back onto the bed, their legs tangling with the sheets. "Paris, you must know that what you say is wrong and that if any were to find out what goes on between us, we would surely be torn apart, no?"

"Aye, that is a punishment that I will endure if it does happen." Paris said softly, cupping Hector's whiskered chin, "For I do know that it would not hold a candle to the pain I would feel if I had never dwelt in the full circle of your arms."

Like a dam breaking, all the love he felt for his brother burst forth and Hector stole a gentle kiss from Paris. "Gods I love you." He whispered gently against his ear, his lips brushing against an earlobe.

Paris ran his hands down the length of the man's back, suddenly aware of the wheals that marred his golden skin. "Gods! Hector!" He squirmed out from beneath Hector and sat up to stare at the scarred flesh. His skin had been tanned from the long days practicing underneath the relentless sun, there were some silvery scars from previous wounds but on top of that, the criss-cross patterns the width of Paris' smallest finger printed itself across Hector's back. "What happened?"

Suddenly uncomfortable, Hector rolled over and immediately regretted the contact with his seared skin enough to wince slightly, "I went to the temple and the priests promised me confidentiality if I took my punishments."

"You told the priests?" Paris asked thickly, swallowing back the urge to throw up.

Sitting up to ease the discomfort, Hector ran a hand through his unruly hair, "I had to. I could not keep this burden!" He said, unable to meet his brother's shocked stare.

He had always been such a pious and deeply religious man, Paris knew. He knew that the only excitement allowed in his life was when he was campaigning. It was a sad fact to Paris that the only release his brother was ever allowed was whenever he had a sword in his hand, he knew that was no way to live a life. His brother had always carried the iron-shod mantle of duty as diligently as he could. A perfect prince in every aspect--devoted to his gods, his country, his family and his wife. He drove a punishing pace, that Paris knew all too well as he tried to keep up, but didn't know the extent or the methods of how he dealt with his own shame and sadness. He had heard rumours of self-mutilation but had dismissed them as speculation, never once suspecting his brother capable of something so horrendous.

"By the gods, Hector." He kissed his brother in such an un-brotherly like fashion that it drew a passionate gasp from Hector's lips. Delicious torment tickled its way down his spine and when finally they broke away, Hector could feel the heat of desire curling in his stomach like a ball of twine. Paris pulled him close, unable to bare breaking contact with him, running his mouth along the clean curve of his neck tasting sweat and something that was Hector's alone. As he did this, Hector's hands seemed to run down the clean lines of Paris' body, trying to memorize it like a blind man would a map.

"What goes on here?" A horrified voice tore the two lovers apart, Hector and Paris both stared at Deiphobus in horror, who stared back at them in disgust and astonishment. "That was surely not a brotherly embrace that I saw..." He said softly, his eyes glittering with anger as he closed the door gently and slid the latch in place.

"Deiphobus..." The name came like a strangled croak to Paris' chapped lips.

Lifting a fine eyebrow to wait his brothers' explanation, the man leaned back against the door with his arms crossed over his shoulders, "How long has this been going on?"

Hector lifted himself from the bed, pulling away the furs that tangled his long legs. Despite the lack of clothing, the eldest prince stalked towards Deiphobus with a grim look in his dark eyes, "It just started. You interrupted us." He growled, stopping to stand nose-to-nose with his other brother.

Deiphobus curled his lip in contempt, "I would have expected something like this from Paris...but you, Hector?" He sneered.

"What is it to you, Deiphobus?" Hector was the only one who could keep all of his brothers in line but it was especially hard to keep the second youngest checked in his place. There had been too many fights, too many disagreements between the Deiphobus and the rest of his brothers, that they were all quite wary of him. He had been made of a different caste, one that was not adverse to deceit and blackmail when he felt it was necessary. It seemed that he had inherited all of his father's penchant for schemes and none of his goodwill.

Tilting back his glorious head, letting his long chestnut locks fall over his broad shoulders, Deiphobus laughed mirthlessly, "Oh Hector, it is everything to me!" He hissed, his mood suddenly changing and the forced smile sliding from his face.

"If you utter a word of this to anyone, I will cut off your nose and ears and feed them to the dogs." Snarled Hector, his eyes glittering with all the seething anger and hate he felt for his younger sibling.

Deiphobus lifted on unconvinced eyebrow before opening the door, "You wouldn't dare to touch me, Hector. You won't be able to once father gets through with you." He said laughingly, spearing the stricken Paris with such a venomous look that he shifted slightly amidst the sea of quilts and furs before walking out the door.

Slamming his fist into the wood, Hector felt the grain splinter beneath his knuckles. "We have tempted the gods with our love, brother. Now they will punish us rightly for our trespasses." He gathered the discarded sheet in his arms and wrapped it around his naked, bruised body before stalking out the door.

TBC

Apology to those who stumbled across my unedited version. Yep...the truth is out. Thrice CANNOT spell and she doesn't have a word processor programme...can you tell? 


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